Harry potter and the Hammer of Thor
by Black Knight
Summary: sorry, but this plot bunny has had it's head bitten off by a plot terrier, if anyone wants to take it as their own, you can
1. Nightmares

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Author: _Black Knight_

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Author email: JonathonCottrell@aol.com  
**Category:** action/adventure/romance

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Rating: R, Harry and the gang are all teenagers now, and will be acting accordingly  
**Summary:** Harry finds something out about his past, the reason Voldemort wanted him killed as a baby, assassins are hired, and a young red haired witch has her dreams come true.  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

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Authors Notes: I am definitely a H/G-R/Hr shipper, so that's what this'll be, as always, fear for your sanity, and major bodily organs, before reading any further.

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Spoilers: first 4 books of Canon.

**__**

Chapter 1-Nightmares

Knowledge is power, hide it well

From the outside, number 4, Privet drive looks exactly as Vernon and Petunia Dursley want it to look like, a perfectly ordinary house, with perfectly ordinary people.

Vernon Dursley is a big, beefy man, with no neck and a bushy mustache, who owns and manages a company called Grunnings, which makes drills.

His wife, Petunia Dursley, is a tall woman, with an extremely long neck, slightly horse faced, she is extremely nosy, and spies on the people that live in number two and number six constantly, having nothing better to do as a house wife.

Their only son, Dudley, is an incredibly fat boy, his incredible bulk stopping him from wearing any cloths smaller that XXXL, and even then it's a tight fit, since he weighs roughly the same as the average baby elephant.

As such, to the casual observer, the forth person that lives in this house is a _persona non grata_, Vernon and Petunia's one and only nephew, a green eyed, raven haired young man, a young man who the three other occupants of the house fear and despise, and take great pleasure in making his life more miserable with each passing second.

The young boy in question is Harry Potter, and, compared to his relatives, he _is_ abnormal, because he's a wizard, even compared to other wizards, for nothing more than a simple scar plastered across his forehead, reaching from the tip of his eyebrow to his hairline in one jagged line.

This scar is a relic of the night his parents were killed, a permanent brand of his uniqueness, and a permanent reminder of how his parents were killed.

His parents were killed when he was barely older than one, on Halloween, by the most powerful dark wizard of our age, Tom Marvolo Riddle, AKA Lord Voldemort, The scar is the only mark he had received when Voldemort, having killed Lily and James Potter, had turned his wand on the infant Harry and performed a curse that had killed numerous fully grown men and women, both wizards and muggles without a single hitch, yet, because of his mothers sacrifice to save him, the curse was rebounded.

Voldemort, his corporeal form damaged beyond repair, he went into hiding for ten years, only to be thwarted again by an eleven year old Harry when trying to steal the Philosophers stone from Hogwarts and use it to restore himself to power, causing him to retreat into hiding for another two years, until one of his more cowardly followers returned to him, and he was returned to full power using Harry's blood.

Right now Harry is lying on his bed in the smallest bedroom of Number 4 Privet Drive, a lit torch resting gently on his chest as he read from a thick, leather bound tome, the legend,_ Four thousand years of Wizarding history_ in smooth golden writing across the front.

He hardly notices that the time's just after half past one, as he finishes the last sentence of the most complex History of magic assignment he has ever had (explain, in your own words, what was the main catalyst for the Goblin rebellion of 1544-1552).

Carefully blowing over the parchment to dry the ink to dry it, Harry hears a quiet hoot from the window, jus before Hedwig zooms in past the open windows, landing gently at the foot of the bed, an envelope in her beak.

"Hedwig, thank god your back, I was starting to get worried" says Harry, as Hedwig drops the envelope and heads for her cage for a drink.

Harry had sent Hedwig to Sirius Black(his godfather) with a letter, telling him about his nightmares, that had been two weeks ago, and he was worried, not for Hedwig's sake, because she's smart enough to stay out of trouble, but for Sirius'.

He was so worried because Sirius is on the run from magical law enforcement, and had to hide out in a foreign, tropical, country (to judge by the large, colorful birds that delivered Sirius' letters to Harry) because he had been wrongfully convicted of murder of thirteen people(12 muggles and one wizard), and whenever it took him a long time to reply, Harry always thought he'd been caught.

__

Harry

I'm sorry Harry, I can't do anything to stop your nightmares, but you can't block them out, if you try it can cause your magic to act up, and you can't afford that, I can, however, listen, if you want to talk to someone, I'm always here for you.

If you need to talk to me, send an owl to Moony, he'll know where I am.

Love 

Snuffles

Frowning slightly, Harry puts the parchment back into it's envelope, and tosses it into his open trunk, just before getting hit in the side of the head by a grey, feathery tennis ball, or, something that felt very familiar to getting hit it the head by a grey, feathery tennis ball.

It turned out to be Pig, carrying a letter from Ron.

Picking the small roll of parchment up of the floor and rubbing his head, Harry looks up at pig, the small dust colored owl flying in tight circles around the small light fixture in the middle of the room.

Looking at the roll, he notices that it's been shut with a red wax seal, with an image pushed into it, a single oval, pulled lengthways, with three W's in the middle of it.

Breaking the seal with the tip of his thumb, Harry unrolls the parchment and read Ron's messy scrawl.

__

Dear Harry

Guess what Mate?, Dumbledore's been over here since the holiday started, putting charms and stuff on the whole town_, and he says he's finished, you get to come here mate, for the rest of the holidays, Bill's going to come pick you up on Thursday, at 5pm._

By the way, rather than send you all the stuff for your birthday, Mum says you're gonna have a belated birthday here instead, Herm knows too, so she's sent your present here since she'll be in France for afew more weeks, and won't be able to give it you in person.

See ya Thursday

Ron

This letter makes Harry feel infinitely better than the one from Sirius, the Weasley's (seven children, two adults, three owls, a garden full of gnomes, and no money) are Harry's favorite people, he's glad he can get away from the Dursleys for a bit, and he's going to have a proper birthday for once, no Dursleys to spoil it, no carrot sticks for breakfast, just his friends and well wishers.

Glancing at the clock, Harry notices that it's 2 AM, and that he's so exhausted he's re-read the same word in his history book five times, and decides to go to sleep.

*

He's running through a dark maze, dark green hedges raising up into the inky black sky, the stars twinkling in the cloudless night, like diamonds on black velvet, the light of the full moon making mere shadows look like things of nightmare.

Walking past the monsters in the maze, the skrewt, the acromantular, the sphinx, all with glowing red eyes, and fangs dripping blood.

Heading down the dark path, screams of pain from the other champions in the maze, Fleur and Krum, as one by one they are knocked out of the running.

After afew minutes of frantic searching, his heart beating almost painfully loud in his chest, Harry finally finds Cedric and the cup in the center of the maze, trying to stop Cedric from getting to the cup first, but being a second too late, and grabbing it at the same time as him.

As soon as his fingers brush against the smooth metal of the cup, he feels a familiar tugging sensation just behind his navel, and the world vanishes in a whirlwind of shapes and colours.

When the colours settle, he lands painfully on the floor, his wounded leg buckling under him. 

Looking around, he sees he's surrounded by grave stones, their chipped and eroded surfaces jutting up silently, each one a memorial to the extinguished sparks of life.

Pulling out his wand shortly after Cedric does, he turns and gets a glimpse of someone waddling through the darkness towards them, before the dull throb in his scar, turns into blinding pain, making his eyes water and obscuring his vision before he clamps them shut, trying to block out the pain.

A voice hisses "_kill the spare_", before a flash of green light and a rushing sound herald Cedric's death.

He lies there spread eagle, his grey eyes staring blankly into space.

Miles away, just outside the sleeping village of Ottery St. Catchpole, a girl in one of the rooms of a seven story house wakes up from her nightmare with a scream.


	2. Shared dreams

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Author: _Black Knight_

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Author email: JonathonCottrell@aol.com  
**Category:** action/adventure/romance

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Rating: R, Harry and the gang are all teenagers now, and will be acting accordingly  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

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Spoilers:first 4 books of Canon.

**__**

Chapter 2- Shared dreams

It is better to die free, than to live as a slave

In her room in the Burrow, Ginny Weasley wakes up in a cold sweat, her nightshirt clinging clammily to her skin, the cold night air causing her arms to goose-pimple as she breaths deeply, recovering from the nightmare that woke her

'_Just a nightmare, just a nightmare, nothing more_'

She wasn't surprised to find that she was dreaming of Harry, she dreamt of him a lot, although she would never willingly admit it to anyone, not even Bill (her oldest brother, and the only one that doesn't treat her like a little girl anymore)

She starts to think about the nightmare, and decides that she'll ask Harry about it when he comes, looking at the clock, that reads 4 a.m., lies back down, entering a pleasant sleep filled with dreams of a young emerald eyed boy with ebony hair.

*

The sounds of birdsong filter through the open window weren't loud enough to wake her up, but the bright sunlight shining on her face aswell was, whilst not altogether irritating, enough to wake her from her pleasant dream about a Yule ball where she said no to Neville and went with Harry.

He would be arriving on the 3rd, Thursday, just afew days after his birthday, for almost one whole month at the Burrow, and they'd be throwing him a belated birthday party on Friday.

Walking over to her cupboard, she opens the door and looks at the small package in it, it would be the first birthday present she ever given him, and she hopes he likes it.

Pulling some clean cloths out, she quickly gets dressed and heads down for breakfast.

*

When she gets downstairs, the somewhat ordered chaos that is the Weasley Family are unusually silent, Fred and George whispering to each other over their bacon and eggs, Charlie, who's moved home from Romania so he's closer to the family, and so he can take the temporary position as care of professor at Hogwarts, reading _Wings of fire_, the dragon keepers magazine, whilst Percy and Mr. Weasley argue about the comings and goings of the ministry.

Bill - who had transferred to Gringotts of London, must still be asleep, since is place at the table still has his breakfast (he'll be sorry he left it if Fred and George do something to it), and Ron's reading a letter, with a slightly dreamy expression on his face.

"Morning Ron" says Ginny with a grin, knowing why he got the dreamy expression on his face.

He completely ignores her.

"Ron, don't ignore your sister" says Mrs. Weasley 

"Hmm, what?" asks Ron, coming out of his stupor

"I said don't ignore your sister" repeats Mrs. Weasley

"Oh, right, morning Gin" says Ron absentmindedly

"Another letter from Hermione?" asks Ginny, knowing that Hermione had finally got it into her head to show Ron how she felt for him, she'd seen them kiss on platform 93/4 after Hermione had pecked Harry on the cheek, under the pretence of making sue he didn't get jealous when she tried to inhale Ron.

"Ye, she's doing fine, enjoying France, writing afew feet more than is needed for her homework, the usual, she says I'm to say hi to you, by the way"

They eat the rest of their breakfast in a stressful silence, Ron challenging Ginny to a game of chess (she was the only person to ever beat him) when they're done to pass the time, as the twins run upstairs to finish the plans for their joke shop.

After a grueling day of Beating Ron at chess (four times), trying to stay awake when Percy describes his new job, and ducking whenever the twins enter the room, Ginny's exhausted, and heads up to her room as soon as supper finishes, and falls asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.

*

__

"Harry!" Cedric Diggory was shouting, "You all right? Did it fall on you?"

"No." Harry replied. He was in bad shape, his leg was bleeding, his robes were covered in what looked like some sort of monster saliva, and he was leaning against a large hedge to support himself.

There was a pause in the conversation before Harry panted, "Take it, then. Go on, take it. You're there."

Cedric looked at the Tri-Wizard cup, glowing in all its glory. Ginny could tell he wanted to take it, but knew he wouldn't. He wrenched his gaze from it and looked back at Harry. 

"You take it. You should win. That's twice you've saved my neck."

"That's not how it's supposed to work. The one who reaches the cup first gets the points. That's you. I'm telling you, I'm not going to win any races on this leg."

"No."

"Stop being noble. Just take it, then we can get out of here."

"Just take the cup!" Harry shouted.

"No." Cedric repeated firmly. He approached Harry and said, a bit more softly, "Go on."

"Both of us." Harry said suddenly.

"What?"

"We'll take it at the same time. It's still a Hogwarts victory. We'll tie for it."

"You - you sure?"

"Yeah. Yeah...we've helped each other out, haven't we? We both got here. Let's just take 

it together."

Cedric grinned. "You're on. Come here."

Ginny watched as Cedric helped Harry over to the cup. She wanted to scream at them, tell them not to touch it, but it was too late. They touched the cup and disappeared in a flash.

-----

Where are we?" Harry asked as he and Cedric appeared in a graveyard of some sort. It gave Ginny an eerie sense of foreboding...

"Did anyone tell you_ the cup was a Portkey?" Cedric asked._

"Nope." Harry paused. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

"I dunno. Wands out d'you reckon?" Cedric sounded nervous, whilst Harry looks relived that he wasn't the one to suggest it.

Ginny wanted to scream at them to touch the Portkey again and go back to safety, but she was mute. It was as if she wasn't even there...

"Yeah." There was another heavy pause. "Someone's coming."

Suddenly, Harry dropped to his knees in pain, and as Cedric bent over to see if he was alright, a chilling voice said, "Kill the spare."

Ginny screamed at the top of her lungs, but it was no use, they couldn't hear her. The curse "Avada Kedavra!_" sounded, and there was a flash of green light that went straight toward Cedric, through him, and stole his life away as it left again. He fell to the ground, dead._

***


	3. Blood Coven

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Author: _Black Knight_

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Category: action/adventure/romance

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Rating: R, Harry and the gang are all teenagers now, and will be acting accordingly.  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

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Spoilers: first 4 books of Canon.

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Authors notes: When I started this chapter, I only had one review on the first two chapter, now that's pathetic, don't be afraid to give me constructive criticism, ok?

All hail Queens of H/G, all the shower/towel scenes are dedicated to you!

**__**

Chapter 3-Blood coven

Never is someone more dangerous than when they welcome death

With a final stroke of his eagle feather quill, Harry finishes his potions assignment (_List the magical properties of the various organs of a Hibridian Black, and there use in potions_) before placing the parchment in his trunk (he waited for the ink to dry) and heading for the shower.

After cleaning up, he feels genuinely thankful to uncle Vernon for the first time in, well, ever.

Vernon had made Harry work in Grunnings, his drill making company, as someone who placed large boxes full of power tools and drill bits onto wooden pallets and wrapped them in cling film, he was paid less then minimum wage, and forced to work longer hours than Vernon, but all the manual labor did him good.

He stopped being the thin, pale boy with broken glasses (he had some new ones made when he went for an optical appointment on the company medical plan) and turned into the lightly tanned young man with a body the girl who lived in number 2 Privet drive loved to watch whenever Harry de-weeded the garden.

They even bought him some cloths that fit, saying "It wouldn't look good to have a scruffy urchin working in _MY_ firm!", and that was that, his summer had become more pleasant than he had thought it ever could be, especially after what had happened last year.

Last year, Cedric Diggory had been killed, the first casualty of the new war, Voldemort had risen again, Hermione and Ron had become an item (she kissed him right after kissing Harry on the cheek, and told him how she felt, making him tell her, two minutes of mush, and they've been together ever since).

He was happy for them, even though he knew it meant they would be spending more time with each other and less with him, he couldn't help but be happy for them (and relived that Hermione did something about it, maybe now he won't be involved in so many arguments).

Rubbing his tired eyes, he removes his glasses, turns out his torch and falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow.

*

Bright red eyes, the shade of blood, shine in the flickering green light coming from the chandelier, a monstrous creation of silver and gold, holding countless candles above the long wooden table, uncomfortable looking stone chairs placed in rows along it. 

Most of the chairs are empty, but scattered along the table are afew people, draped in dark cloaks and white masks, each looking towards the head of the table, where the tall, thin, snake faced form of Voldemort sits.

"The Thunderer's powers should be wakening soon, my lord"

"That is not good enough Malfoy, I ordered you, all of you, to ensure that he does not see the morn of his fifteenth birthday, it is the night before, and he is still alive, you have failed me, _Crucio!_"

The chair falls backwards as Lucius Malfoy screams and writhes in agony.

"My lord, you know that we cannot touch him whilst he resides with those muggle relatives of his, and the home of that muggle loving fool of Arthur Weasley has been enchanted so that if any one of us arrives within the town it is in, the ministry shall be informed, and Auror's shall be sent"

"I do not care for your excuses Avery, I wish to see results, and for we have other business to attend to" hisses Voldemort "Due to your constant failures, I have been forced to hire some extra help to dispose of Potter, I have called the assassins of the blood coven"

"M-my lord, you cannot be serious!"

"I assure you Lucius, I can and I am"

"B-but the cost"

"A human sacrifice to their 'blood god', I am well aware of the cost, are you trying to tell me that you cannot find some random muggle for me to use as payment? Or, are you more afraid of the blood coven than you are of me"

"N-no my lord"

"_Crucio!_"

Lucius Malfoy's screams of pain echo in Harry Potters mind, forcing him to wake up from his nightmare.

*

Waking up to a light room, Harry is momentarily confused, until he wakes up fully and realizes that it's half seven, the time he usually gets up, the only indication that he was having a nightmare the faint throb in his scar.

"Oh god, not another one" mutter Harry, causing Hedwig to give a quizzical hoot

"I'm ok girl, don't worry" says Harry reassuringly, as he kneads his scar with the knuckles of his right hand.

__

'I have got to tell Dumbledore about this'

"Feel up to a delivery girl?" asks Harry

Hedwig give the owl version of 'of course' (she hoots)

"Just let me write it"

After pulling a quill, some parchment and an ink bottle out of his trunk, where he'd put them after finishing his homework, he starts to write a short, yet detailed, letter to Dumbledore about what he can remember about his dream.

After finishing the short and to the point letter, and sending it off with Hedwig, he sets out a white cotton shirt and some black trousers before changing into a bathrobe and heading for a shower.

*

An undeterminable time later, Harry emerges from the bathroom in nothing but a fluffy white towel wrapped around his waist, hair dripping wet and sticking even more than usual.

His glasses are so steamed up, he doesn't notice that both his hand and the knob of his bedroom door are glowing a pale blue, but he does notice the shock of static that jumps from his hand to the door, which makes Harry yell in both pain and shock.

"BOY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Vernon's furious voice echo's from down the stairs 

"NOTHING UNCLE VERNON" Harry shouts back

"THEN BE QUIET!" Dudley silently mimics his father, making his multiple chins his multiple chins wobble. 

"Ok!" says Harry as he glared at his cousin

"GET READY NOW BOY! YOUR STARTING WORK EARLY TODAY! THERE'S A BIG SHIPMENT COMING IN THIS MORNING AND YOUR HELPING"

Harry wasn't surprised by this, Vernon had made him go into work early every day this week, and took any wage he was meant to earn for his keep, and deliveries always came on a Monday, and the biggest was usually the last Monday of the month.

*

Harry climbs the stairs up to his room later that day feeling exhausted, he'd just spent ten hours non-stop unloading pallets full of the raw materials, was covered in dust and sweat, and to top it all off, he had kept getting shocked from any metal he touched all day, which made moving the 400 or so 25Kg boxes of drill bits a real pain in the ass.

He quickly jumps in the shower, and scrubs away the worst of the days grime. Hoping out, feeling 10 pounds lighter, he changes into a white T-shirt and s pair of jeans, and head down to the kitchen.

The usual sounds fill the kitchen, the small TV's on full volume, as Dudley's favorite show is on, Dudley himself is gobbling down as much food as possible, sitting at his side of the table, and looking even bigger than he did that morning, if such a thing was possible, before giving off one tremendous belch that causes the plates drying by the sink to rattle.

Naturally, Petunia doesn't say anything about his manners, or lack thereof.

Sitting himself down at the table, Harry's finds the usual, two leaves of lettuce and a slice of cucumber, which he finished quickly before heading back up to his room.

*

A circular clearing, surrounded by unfamiliar tree's that seem to glow with an inner green light, whilst simultaneously failing to illuminate anything, and making the shadows look solid.

Thirteen young looking, tall women stand at the edge of the clearing, their outfits making them look like some sort of erotic carrion bat from hell, black leather and red silk, revealing more of their creamy, pale flesh than it covers.

"You called us?" the eldest of the women, her too-perfect face looking no older than twenty five, her question directed towards the center of the circle, next to a stone alter with curious coppery brown stains on it, where the tall, thin, snakelike figure of Voldemort stands proud.

"I did"

"What do you require of the blood coven" asks the youngest of the group, a mere girl, no older than 9, in a melodic voice like the plucked strings of a finely tuned harp.

"I have a problem I wish for you to solve"

"We do not solve problems" the elder again, in a voice like a choir of songbirds

"I think you may be interested by this, the problem is a person, a wizard"

"Powerful?" asks a blonde, twin swords strapped to her back

"Yes"

"Young?" asks the girl again, playing with a blade sharp enough to slice the wind

"Still a mere boy"

"How old exactly?" the eldest again

"Fifteen, today"

"Young, but old enough" says the other blond, with a grin at her fellows

Murmurs of agreement from all but the nine year old, who has the good grace to try and not look confused.

"Are we agreed?" asks a silver haired young woman, rubbing a hand over her swollen stomach to calm the baby within it.

"Yes, we are, your problem shall be solved, but not without cost"

"I knew we could find an arrangement, Wormtail, bring the squib"

The fat, balding form of Peter Pettigrew walks into the clearing, dragging an unconscious man behind him by the back of his shirt.

"The normal cost, I believe, one human male, good physical condition, still alive, he's merely stunned"

"All blood is equal, place him on the alter, make sure he's strapped down, and awaken him, then you may leave"

he was placed, spread eagle, onto the alter, his arms and legs chained by thick metal shackles.

After a muttered '_enervate_' Wormtail and Voldemort Apparate away from the clearing, the echoing screams of pain from the squib as he's carved like a Christmas turkey by the sirens of the blood coven.

__

Sorry it took so long, but I was trying to make this chapter longer than the others, and I wanted to introduce the blood coven, I'll start n the next chapter if I get enough reviews on this one, merry Christmas all.


	4. Awakening

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Author: _Black Knight_

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Author email: JonathonCottrell@aol.com  
**Category:** action/adventure/romance

****

Rating: R, Harry and the gang are all teenagers now, and will be acting accordingly  
**Summary:** Harry finds something out about his past, the reason Voldemort wanted him killed as a baby, assassins are hired, and a young red haired witch has her dreams come true.  
**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

****

Spoilers: first 4 books of Canon

****

Authors notes: Sorry, sorry, I know, it took ages to update, more than two years, I actually forgot about this fic, that's my excuse, I forgot about it, it took a review from someone to remind me about it.

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AN2: Names and places of Norse godliness are as true as I could ascertain from multiple mythology sites.

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Chapter 4-Awakening

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In the hour of darkness a blind man is the best guide.

In the age of insanity look to the madman to guide the way.

The _Daily Prophet's_ headline for that day was about an unidentified man found with his heart cut out in the wizarding area of Manchester.

A ritual murder dedicated to the old gods, according to the article, that are believed to have died out since you-know-who's defeat by the boy who lived.

Enough of that, they always managed to put a reference to him into their articles, as if he was the cause of all this, hell, it would have been just as bad if Voldemort had never fallen, at least he'd bought them a respite from all of this.

Harry wasn't the only young person working here, apparently his uncle didn't mind using child labor, his secretary had only just turned sixteen, and he had some other fifteen year olds working the night shift for some extra cash.

He was on his lunch break, doing the crossword in the daily prophet and wondering what a seven-letter word for tidal wave that has an 'A' near the end could be.

"Tsunami, of course"

Filling in the squares he utters a curse as the small black and white squares re-arrange themselves, creating a whole new cross word, the letters he's just filled in taking up residence in different places on the grid, the T and M moving to create the word MOUSETRAP, and the other letters doing the same, filling in blank spaces for the new clues that replaced the old ones.

Now looking for a five letter word for 'person who expects to find logic in a _daily prophet_ crossword' using the 'M' from MOUSETRAP as the first letter

__

Do you think they're trying to tell me something?

Before he can write the answer in, the clock chimes once, signaling the quarter hour and the end of his tea break, meaning he had top get back to work.

Not that it was that hard anymore, the boxes seemed to be getting lighter everyday, and they could be, Vernon was always complaining about how his suppliers were trying to screw him, maybe they had just started to use second rate materials, something not as heavy as steel.

That and he'd stopped getting shocked from them as much.

Another few hours of this and he gets to grab a bite to eat during lunch, and he's one clue away from finishing the bloody crossword at the end of it, two clues if you use the other set.

Another four hours of carrying boxes from off the back of a lorry into the warehouse, stacking them carefully onto pallets, large trays of wood that make it easier for forklifts to move them about.

After loading enough onto the pallet, he wrapped it up in a clear strong plastic to stop the boxes from falling of when moved deeper into the warehouse.

As the last of the boxes were unloaded from the truck, just half an hour before the end of his shift, as soon as he had the driver was pulling the sides of the lorry shut, jumped into the cab and drove off, looking glad to go.

So is he really, glad to be able to get out of here to somewhere, anywhere else.

-*-

"Where is he now Volva?" Sjah asks the old blind woman

"I cannot tell, sometimes he is everywhere, and at others, he is nowhere" replies the hunched over figure of the oracle of souls

"What? How can he be everywhere and nowhere?" asks Mephisa, her blades flashing silver in the moonlight as she plays with them

"I do not know, all I can tell you is what I feel, I can also tell you that I have felt this once before, with Aegir, before he joined their ranks"

"Aegir? The brewer, our charge is ascending?"

"More like reawakening, the power I feel when I _can_ feel him is very familiar, a warrior soul, a champion, you would do well to feel cautious Sjah"

"Is he _that_ dangerous, that I need to be on guard"

"Not yet, but he will be, soon"

-*-

__

A Brief history of the divine, By Edwin Golgothan

**__**

'Finally past goblin rebellions, thank god'

__

Many muggle religions state that their prime divinity created the universe, however, whether or not it in fact **was** created by a divinity is as yet unknown, but seeing how the average god would be hard pressed to make a cup of Tea properly, I find this belief doubtful.

Harry was reading the fifth year history of magic book, after just receiving it by hand, or claw if you will (Fawkes had delivered it) that morning, along with the rest of his school supplies.

Only two weeks left before school starts again, and it had never looked so long.

Uncle Vernon had stopped having him work, ever since one of the boxes of drill parts had arrived slightly the worst for wear, he blamed the damages on Harry.

*

__

One of the later Norse gods, Aegir was also a powerful wizard, who somehow earned a place amongst the divinity, probably by the potent beer he made, strong enough to get the gods drunk. 

His hall was a sanctuary, where none could come to harm, Loki, a giant who became a god when Odin shared a blood oath with him, took advantage of this many times, insulting the other 'true' gods.

Aurvandil, a great warrior and close friend of Thor, was also the husband of a healer witch known as Groa. 

On a side note, the muggle author J.R.R. Tolken used Aurvandil as his inspiration for Earendil

****

Not bad for religious history

After reading everything there was in the 'A' section, and having nothing better to do, Harry decided to sleep, rationalizing that he's too tired to really concentrate, and he'd be able to take more in, in the morning

*

__

A dark night, a cold wind, a flash of lightning.

Atop the mountain, overlooking the land below, the forgotten one watches over the sleepless spirits, the last of the divine power left in the seven worlds.

His brother was growing stronger, about to awaken from the sleep of Ragnarok, the frost giants had left long ago, leaving the sleepers to their rest, bored with tormenting them with nightmares that they could never awake from.

Here in Breidablik the others now sleep, awaiting the ascension of mortal man.

He fingers the mistletoe dart hung on a cord around his neck as he thinks, wondering if the time is right for the storm to awaken, if mankind need the guardian again.

Remembering the words of Urd, Skuld, and Verdandi, when one is ready to awaken, the storm shall shake the world, and blood of innocents shall be spilled in the name of life.

As the rain hammers against the silver tiles of his hall, Balder, god of light and destined overseer of his brethren after the twilight of Ragnarok strides towards the ashes of his brothers pyre, and parts the ash.

'Pray that the time is right, I have been alone too long'

"Mjollnir, I send you to your master, return to the one who's soul you were forged for"


End file.
